The Outcasts
by Unknownmusic
Summary: Harry Potter grew up where magic was very real and his eyes blindfolded not for his, but the world's sake. After years away from the Wizarding World's eyes, he has finally decided to return to his home country with another whom society both loathed and respected. His goal? To study at the famous Hogwarts University for the Magically Gifted where a certain Tom Riddle also attends.
1. Prologue

**I do own anything that could get me sued. That includes the picture I put as this story's cover. I just thought it was amazing and it suited my characters perfectly.**

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**Prologue**

There was a certain silence to Knockturn Alley that burned. Dark corners hid darker secrets and the stores were aglow with the eerie flickering of few candles. The pebbled pathways through the alley were narrow and riddled with small crooks and society's forgotten. The occasional moan or wail wasn't out of place and any character not wearing a cloak to disguise their identity was either new or suspicious. The entire alley was monochrome; only blacks, whites, and greys adorned the scenery. The tiles on the roofs were loose and many areas were bald to the elements. Several doors were barred and many had multiple locks spelled to keep out humans and creatures (or a mix) alike. In short, Knockturn Alley was not a place many ordinary witches or wizards visited.

Only those who didn't have society's graces truly knew what Knockturn Alley had to offer. They understood darkness. They understood desperation, secrecy, and pain. They knew that life wasn't completely defined and that many things lie in the blurred in-betweens. They knew better than to judge the alley by its appearance. And despite the fact that many Dark businesses resided there, people knew that Knockturn was no different than Diagon.

Harry was one of those people. He understood and welcomed it but he had not always been that way. Once upon a time, he had once been what some would call an "ordinary" wizard and he had thought Knockturn Alley a secret hideaway for bandits, convicts, and shady figures. He now knew that it was true. But it wasn't an ugly or shameful truth. It was just a truth. The "ordinary" were just people lucky enough not to have been pushed to the point of Knockturn's occupants. The people of Knockturn had been pushed past that fine line and they had become what they had become out of necessity. They had done it in order to survive – to live.

"Are you listening to me?"

Harry shook his head and glanced at his companion. Sometimes he wished Jack didn't stand out so much. But it was a lot to ask and Harry knew better than to ask. Jack was born ostentatious and there was nothing that could be done about it. His very appearance screamed for attention. His hair was a shocking red and competed with the sun's rays in terms of brilliance. It hung in irregular locks around the sharp contours of his elegant face and had the distinct talent of appearing windswept despite the obvious lack of wind. His skin was a healthy peachy color and the occasional blots of color that marked his cheeks painted a vibrant picture about him. The only exceptions to Jack's glowing visage were his pale, brooding grey eyes that peered from beneath long bangs.

"Harry, I know you're not deaf."

"Calm down," Harry murmured humorously. "I was about to reply."

Jack frowned and rolled his eyes. "I wish you would stop contemplating everything. It makes one wonder whether you were a little more than slow."

"Are you suggesting that I'm mentally deficient?"

A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of Jack's lips. "No. I'm not suggesting. I'm _saying_ you're mentally deficient."

Harry crossed his arms. "Come back and say that again when you actually manage to finish a book."

"But they get so boring after a couple of pages!"

Harry opened his mouth to retort only to suddenly bump into a fleeting passerby. That was a rarity in Knockturn Alley. There were hardly enough people foolish enough to linger in the streets and even fewer to encourage any sort of shuffling or contact between clients.

The man whom Harry had accidentally bumped into turned a fierce, panicked scowl at his offender only to abruptly stop. The anger quickly disappeared from his expression and he apologetically said, "Didn't see you there, kid. Keep safe, eh?"

If it had been anybody else but Harry, the man probably would have expressed his great displeasure. But it had been Harry and, like many people, the man had felt a sense of great pity and strange compassion.

Why?

Because Harry looked, from all views, blind. He had an emerald blindfold securely wrapped around his eyes and not even somebody with x-ray vision wouldn't have been able to see through the thick cloth.

"Is our contact actually going to be there? Since when did Britain's nobility decide to assist people like us?"

Harry pursed his lips. "Jack, you know our contact is not nobility."

"He might as well be. From what we've researched, he's rich as –"

"Language," Harry interrupted before his friend could revert to the curses he was so fond of. "You know it would look unbecoming here."

Jack pouted to himself but remained silent. He knew just as well as Harry that this single first impression would be crucial.

They eventually came to a stop in front of one of the many dreary stores of Knockturn Alley. Its rickety shingles threatened to fall at the smallest breeze and the windows were coated with years of dust and scratches no human customer could have made. Harry glanced up at the creaking sign, _Borgin and Burkes_.

"He could have chosen a better place to meet."

"Like where?" Harry muttered. "Diagon? I sincerely doubt that we would pass unnoticed there."

Jack groaned. "Really, Harry? I just want to meet somebody at a place that doesn't seem like we could be mugged any second. Is that so much to ask?"

"For us it is."

Jack stared at his friend for a moment before he shook his head and stepped forward to open the gray door.

Automatically, a rather thin and scraggly man popped out from behind the counter with a crooked smile. "What can I help you with?"

"We're here for a meeting," Jack replied.

The man narrowed his eyes. "Under the request of the dragon?"

"Under the request of the snake," Jack smoothly replied with the designated password phrase.

"Right this way."

The man (Borgin or Burke?) led them behind the counter and down a flight of stairs, still relatively unworn from lack of use. The stones still maintained their sharp corners and cold solidity but there was a musty scent in the air that made Harry's hair stand on end.

The man left them at the bottom of the stairs where a single, short corridor led to a door slightly ajar.

"He is waiting." And the storeowner was gone before either Jack or Harry could reply.

They didn't move at first. It had taken them months and hours upon hours to get to where they were now. But they knew the risks and the threats they were opening themselves to. With this, they were no longer free from certain interested eyes.

"If we want to turn back, we should probably do it now," Harry murmured, his voice unnaturally loud in the stillness.

Jack was silent before he scoffed and smiled. "As if we would."

Harry felt himself smile in reply. It was just too true. A safe, mundane life was hardly one either of them desired.

Both of them took a breath simultaneously and moved together to open the door.

~0~

Lucius Malfoy was hardly one to entrench himself in bargains lightly. He abhorred the idea of potentially tying himself to another directly. What if the investment turned out to be fruitless and dangerous?

So it was strange, to say the least, for him to be waiting in a small room underneath Borgin and Burkes to fulfill a bargain he had dedicated himself to.

When the door creaked open to reveal the two he had been waiting for, Lucius couldn't help but feel a touch of loathing and curiosity. There was loathing for the fact that what he was doing was, in fact, a bargain but there was also curiosity because from what he had gathered, these two were far from the average people he normally worked with.

The first, a boy of about seventeen and flaming red hair to match the Weasleys', spoke. "Are you our contact?"

"Indeed."

"Prove it," the second boy, a dark haired youth with ivory skin said. "Show us you are who you state you are."

Lucius pursed his lips but delicately lifted his right hand to slowly pull off his black gloves and reveal the Malfoy ring glittering for both to see.

"You could have stolen it," the redhead automatically said.

The other, though. nodded his head and motioned for his companion to settle down. Clearly, he was the brains of the two. "It's alright. He is telling the truth. Nobody except for the true Head of House can wear an ancestral ring and not die a painful death."

Lucius was beginning to get impatient. Narcissa would be getting impatient, still thinking that he was out on an emergency for the Ministry. He couldn't allow her to get wind of this. She never would have approved.

"Prove yourselves to me now," he commanded to the duo. "How am I to know you did not dispose of the originals after extracting the passphrase from them?"

The black haired boy hesitated at the request. He facial features faltered before he grimly set his lips and reached up towards his blindfold. Lucius was eager to see what lie beneath, for this was part of what had lured him into this bargain in the first place. But a moment later, the redhead had stopped his companion by grasping his arm and shaking his head.

"I shall prove to you who I am," the boy said. "In doing so, I shall prove that my companion is who he says he is as well. I will vouch for his identity."

Lucius was hardly one to agree to such vague terms but he knew better than to push now. There was no need to scare the two away now that he had them in his clutches, soon to be in his debt. So instead of insisting upon further proof, he only nodded once.

The redhead took a deep breath and nodded in return, not really in reply but in some form of acceptance as if taking on a monumental duty. He shakily asked, "Do you have somebody close by you would rather…not have around anymore?"

What was this ridiculous questioning coming from? "Perhaps."

"I would need you to pick one. Now."

The child's voice was beginning to become presumptuous but Lucius did not have the time right now to waste on instilling respect. He only frowned in clear disapproval. "Would you need them actually _here_, by any chance?"

"Yes."

"That will be rather difficult, then," Lucius mused. "All of those I wish gone are intelligent enough to keep away from my vicinity."

"Mr. Borgin," the black haired boy suddenly said.

"What?"

"Mr. Borgin or Mr. Burke – whoever took us down here. Choose one of them. It would be better not to have any solid witnesses to our dealings here, correct?"

The redhead gave his companion a slightly mortified look but he did not say anything to contrary. He seemed to know that whatever had been said had been said in the interest of their bargain and he wasn't going to risk that.

"Very well," Lucius conceded. "It was Burke whom I contracted into this. Allow me to call him down." He pulled out his wand from the cane he had been leaning on and tapped it once against the wooden carving of the chair beside him. It had been the one contact point he had set up with the store's owner just in case an actual conflict arose.

A few minutes later, the wretched form of Burke came shuffling in, his eyes flicking every which way as if he sensed the danger in the air. Lucius did not know what the redhead had planned for the man, but from what their previous conversation had implied, it wasn't going to end well.

"Mr. Malfoy, sir?" Burke asked. "You called?"

"Indeed," Lucius said with a slight curl of his lip. Speaking to unclean vermin often led him to do so.

"Come inside," the redhead said softly, his voice suddenly a strange, soothing tone. "We have need of your assistance."

Lucius could see how the other boy was slowly edging his way closer and closer to the door as Burke hesitantly stepped inside. When the man was a good two feet within the room, the raven-haired child abruptly shut the door and leaned against it.

There was no way out now. And Burke knew it.

"S-sir?" Burke said, nervousness in his voice. "Mr. Malfoy, I don't understand – "

"Take a seat," the redhead said to the Malfoy Head of House, cutting off the store's owner. "I'm sure that you prefer watching demonstrations while sitting comfortably. An audience often graces the performer with such etiquette."

A slight smile touched Lucius's lips and he complied, settling down in the same chair that had acted as a contact point to lure Burke in.

"What are you doing –"

"Sir," the boy interrupted again. "Do you have any regrets in this life? Have you ever wondered whether you could have done better than a run-down Dark artifact shop, kissing the shoes of greater men and groveling?"

Burke stared, shocked at first but then anger seemed to win over. "I would watch your mouth, boy. What I have here is a fine establishment."

"A fine establishment indeed," the redhead murmured, ever so slowly prowling closer to the man. "So fine that dust lines every corner and all of your dealings have coated the place in filth." Burke finally noticed the boy's advancement and he hastily shuffled back in an effort to get away. "And just as the grime of this store lingers on, so does the regret and the bitterness linger in your soul."

"You're crazy, barking mad," Burke snapped. "What business do little boys like you have rabbling on about souls and dirt?"

"So angry," the boy continued to murmur as if Burke had not said anything. "So angry that you have nothing, that you do not stand as high as the other purebloods of the community." A twisted smile turned the redhead's features into a grotesque imitation of a child who had found its favorite toy. "You want it so badly, don't you? All of that recognition and flair? You see the others come in and every day you want it all: the money, the prestige, the _power_."

The black haired boy was still leaning against the door but Lucius could see that he had tensed. It was a sort of tenseness that one portrayed in preparation of something, as if he had seen this many times before and was prepping himself for the result.

"Your family never cared," the redhead sneered. "Your family didn't understand. They were poor, never pushing and resisting like you, isn't that right? But you wanted them to understand, to be a part of your greatness and you were going to prove to them that doing things the dirty way was the only way." The boy laughed softly, backing Burke into a corner of the room. "That's why they're dead now, right? That's why they're lying seven feet under. Because they were in the way. Because you were willing to give them up. And for what? Now you look at yourself and you know it was for nothing. You're just as weak, as useless as them." The child tilted his head ever so slightly and smirked. "Now you know: power is only something you're born with."

"_Get away from me_!" Burke suddenly shrieked, his eyes looking every which way, realizing he was trapped. "You're a freak! You don't know anything! You don't know! You don't know _shit_."

The boy smiled and Lucius actually shivered. There was something soulless and hungry at the same time in those gray eyes. This was remarkably different from the boy who had come in earlier.

"But don't I?" the boy purred. "I know everything about you. How you neglected to bury them only to come back years later to find that somebody else had done so. How you were too afraid to face the truth and instead began to collect Dark artifacts…"

"_Stop it!_ You don't – what do you – how can you _know_?"

If this wasn't one of the finest displays of psychological destruction Lucius had ever seen, he didn't know what was. The boy had somehow pinpointed what ate away at Burke the most and was now systematically taking down all of the shields and safety the man had ever created for himself. Whatever confidence an assurance the man had ever made for himself was now void because Lucius knew with them exposed, there would be little to protect the man from the pain of his memories. Everybody had something they kept hidden away, buried deep within the recesses of their mind. Extracting them like this was the cruelest thing a person could do to another. It was why he had made sure to practice in Occlumency and why he was insisting Draco learn it now; who knew when somebody would try to forcefully revive such memories like the boy was doing now?

It was impressive to be sure. The boy was an astounding Legilimens; there was no other explanation for how he could possibly know so much about Burke's past. But what did this display have to do with proving his identity?

"I know everything about you," the child said again. "And so much more. I see everything you desire, everything you regret…everything."

Burke was beyond any coherent speech now. He could only gape like a fish, waiting.

The boy reached out and the store's co-owner flinched away like an animal trying to escape. He feared the person in front of him, this person who knew his darkest secrets and held his heart in the palm of a hand.

Finally, Burke croaked, "What do you want?"

Slowly, the boy continued to reach out and gently placed both of his hands on the sides of Burke's face and held it so that their eyes were locked. The only thing the man could see in the child's eyes were mists of grey and an understanding that ran so deeply he couldn't have looked away even if he had wanted to. How long had it been since anybody had actually understood him? Nobody knew he had left his family to die so many years ago. He had not told a soul and yet this boy in front of him knew.

"I already have everything you could possibly offer me," the child finally replied. "What else could I ask of you?"

It was true. The only thing a person really had to offer were their secrets, themselves. Burke had lost all of those the minute he had met this boy.

"I can't offer you anything else. What do you want of me?"

A satisfied smile was all Burke got before the boy leaned in and whispered, "Goodbye, Caractacus Burke."

Lucius knew that the man was dead before anybody said it. The very moment the last syllable of Burke's name slid off the child's tongue, the telltale glaze of unseeing eyes had already proven that to the Malfoy Head.

The boy gracelessly dropped the body on to the floor and then spoke without making eye contact. "They call those like me Dullahan."

Lucius raised one eyebrow. "The Headless Horseman?"

Fierce, grey eyes met his and the child growled, "Do I look headless to you? I thought you, of all people, would know better than to fall back upon society's pathetic nicknames." He brushed a lock of red hair out of his eyes and Lucius noticed that his eyes were now clearer, more defined like those men Lucius had seen coming out of drug huts after a long period of abstinence. "The Dullahan are of the Unseelie Court. We are, you could say, one of the Fae."

Lucius wished to question more but it was clear the child was shaken. "What did you do to him?"

"The Dullahan exist is to claim the souls of whatever land it visits. We only need to call upon a name and their souls are ours."

So the information had been true. These two were far from ordinary. They were rare and Malfoys had always had a fascination with the unattainable.

"I see you are who you claim you are," Lucius said. He stood up with one smooth movement and stepped towards the fireplace. "It seems like we shall be continuing this bargain after all."

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**Alright, alright...I know I should have probably updated The Horcrux but I just had to get this out. **

**Things You Should Know:**

**This is most definitely an AU. **

**1) In Britain, Voldemort was never created and Tom Riddle was born a good forty years or so later than in canon. You'll see where he is now in a chapter or two. Dumbledore still hates him though btw. **

**2) There is still a Light dominance but a far greater tolerance for Dark magic than in Rowling's books. The only spells that the Ministry or society in general really detest (and even then only a fraction of what canon did) are the Unforgivables. **

**3) Hogwarts is not a school for kids 11-17 years old. It is something like the Oxford or Cambridge equivalent in terms of magic. It's a university for those magically strong and intelligent enough to pass the entrance exam. The people who normally attend are scholars. Most get by with the magical knowledge they learned through other, smaller schools or tutors (if you were rich enough). It is actually not necessarily a high honor to get in because so few place emphasis on an education outside of the basic one everybody gets but there have been many who graduated Hogwarts who went on to be Ministers or other prominent members of the magical society.**

**4) It's probably pretty obvious by now, but the separation among the magical creatures and the wizards are significantly STRONGER here. There is great prejudice and actual barriers separating their territories. Harry grew up in one of the non-wizarding territories as did Jack. **

**5) The Ministry of Magic still exists but it's less like the one portrayed in canon and more like an aristocratic one you might find way back in the middle ages. **

**6) Jack is an OC (which I'm sure you've figured out). No, he is not some super-god who can just say somebody's name and they die on the spot. He has to actually get eye contact with them and draw them into a state of hopelessness like he did for Burke. But hey, Malfoy didn't need to know that, did he? ;)**

**I don't know if this is going to continue...I'm going to focus on The Horcrux and fixing up my Crown Prince fic but who knows, I might get struck by an impulse again :) **


	2. The House of the Snakes

**I do not own anything that could get me sued.**

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**Chapter 1: The House of the Snakes**

Harry had to struggle not to fiddle with the odd, pointed wizard's upon his head. It was protocol for all university students to don such attire but it was a stranger to the crown of his head and he rather disliked it. The fabric was smooth as silk, of course, but he constantly felt the need to shift it around. This instinct warred with his need to remain as pristine as those around him and he was often lifting and then pulling back his hand in indecision. He must make quite a sight, a blindfolded student moving his hand back and forth like a nitwit.

But then again, maybe it was just his self-consciousness. He had never been to any place so filled with the prestigious before. It was almost sad to say that he would have been more at home with a hoard of one-eyed hags down in Knockturn. He had not grown up privileged like all the others around him. He was one of the few who had earned his place here with nothing more than his efforts.

"Knut for your thoughts?" asked a voice to Harry's right.

Harry turned to the voice and saw a young man with the queerest crimson eyes, a Third Year judging by the pattern of his robes. First Years like himself wore no patterns. But each consecutive year one moved ahead, one gained a part of the school's symbol until one's robes proudly displayed it in its entirety in the Seventh Year. Harry had yet to discover why a school like Hogwarts University would choose a simple half-cut circle inscribed in a triangle for its symbol. It was nothing particularly ostentatious like the four Houses the school was well known for.

A small smile graced Harry's lips. "Nothing less than a galleon for my thoughts. But I suppose the fact that you bothered to approach one so deprived as I is suitable payment."

"Quite a tongue you have there, considering you are speaking to your elder." It was a cautionary message but there was a hint of humor in the Third Year's voice. A smirk touched the student's lips and he casually raised a hand to push a lock of ebony hair out of his face.

"Respect is earned. I do not foolishly bow to those who believe themselves better merely because they were born before me."

The Third Year smiled at that and inclined his head in acquiesce. "Pretentious, but hardly unwise."

Harry inclined his head in response with a slight air of wariness. It was strange for anybody to approach so early on. Most did not wish to speak to a seemingly blind student sitting alone like himself. There was cloying about this Third Year and Harry knew better than to trust those who were too sweet to be true. But this person had taken the plunge and for that, Harry respected this student more than he did anybody else on campus already. He held out a hand. "My name is Harry."

"No surname?" The older boy grinned. "But no matter. Your name is yours to keep. I am called Tom Riddle."

They clasped their hands in a firm shake before the Third Year withdrew and Harry said, "Since you were so kind as to approach me, would you like to take a seat? I'm fairly sure you would prefer not to remain standing."

"Thank you, but I am rather occupied at the moment. I just felt it my duty to take the time to welcome a new student. I hope to see you after the welcoming ceremony."

As Tom walked away, Harry had to wonder at that. Why did he believe it his duty to take the time to welcome somebody like him?

~0~

Jack fiddled with his quill and listened idly to the brisk tempo of the rain outside Malfoy Manor. He would have preferred to have secured his own lodgings outside of an aristocrat's influence but Lucius had been reluctant to let a creature like himself have free rein. Harry had been lucky in that aspect. Even though he too had to stay at Malfoy Manor, he was gone the majority of the year to university.

Nobody in the household knew that he and Harry were temporary tenants. Only the house elves were aware that two new residents had settled in a few weeks ago but they were tied to the master of the house and the master of the house had forbidden them from revealing anything. Not even Lucius's wife knew, so obediently the Malfoy Manor obeyed its master. The house firmly shielded their rooms from any scrutiny and suspicion.

Jack didn't like it at first. He felt far too much like a caged bird. But he had to admit that it was worth it. He now had a place to stay in wizarding world and a position to start off strong as an employee in the Ministry of Magic. That point was, really, the only thing that set his relationship with the Malfoy patriarch at a tilt. Jack had made sure to secure a position _not_ under the man's dominion and therefore free of his influence outside of the household. Needless to say, it had left the man in a rather bad mood for days. He had probably anticipated controlling his new pet in every aspect.

But Jack wasn't aiming for mediocrity. Perhaps Malfoy thought he and Harry had only chanced this because they wanted a better life but he was so far off the mark it wasn't even amusing. Harry had every intention of emerging out of university the top of his class and Jack was determined to climb the ranks and reach heights nobody thought he could ever achieve. He would show the world that he was more than just the simple worker just as Lord Voldemort had done, awing the wizarding community for the last few years.

Lord Voldemort was one of the few people Jack could actually admire in life. The man was ruthless and cold in everything he did but nobody could deny that he was also successful in his endeavors. There had never been another in history to earn his own seat in the Wizengamot without the prestige of a family legacy behind him and never another who had been practically guaranteed the seat of Prime Minister at the mere age of twenty.

Jack intended to be the second person in history to do so. And, if fate allowed it, do even more to earn his own name and set his own precedents. It wouldn't be an easy climb but Jack was determined to do it. He knew he could do it.

The door to his chambers abruptly opened and Jack pulled out of his musings to face the man who had given him the chance to begin his legacy.

"Sir." Jack intentionally avoided the use of the man's name just as he did anybody else's, save Harry's, he didn't wish to kill accidentally. He wasn't vain enough to think himself a master of his inborn gifts quite yet. He was in his volatile years when even the smallest hint of irritation might induce an accidental murder.

"I must request something of you."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You're blunt today. What's gotten under your skin? Rather Gryffindor of you to just ask me like that."

The Malfoy patriarch looked like he would like nothing more than to hex Jack into oblivion but he kept control of himself and said, "That is irrelevant. I need to ask something of you."

"Well, I'm not stopping you. What is it?"

Malfoy pursed his lips and asked, "You have no intention of revealing what you are to the public once you begin your position in the Ministry, do you?"

Jack grinned. "Of course not. Not unless I want the Unspeakables to steal me away and 'inspect' me for the rest of my life."

"Then you, at least, have more sense than your companion."

Jack's grin slipped. "Harry? What wrong with Harry? What happened?"

"He had the audacity to apply for the Slytherin House. Really, had I known I would have done everything in my power to eliminate such a notion from his mind before sending him off."

"What is wrong with applying for Slytherin?" Jack frowned. "Harry is more than qualified. You've seen his statistics."

"Indeed, but only those of the highest order apply."

"Are you saying Harry is not of the highest order?"

Lucius sneered. "Do not be so arrogant. Neither of you are even close."

Jack was tempted to kill the man right there and then but that would have been counterproductive. "I thought Slytherin was the house of the cunning and the ambitious. The successful."

"It is. But Slytherin has never had anybody less than those of nobility."

"Well, now who's being arrogant?" Jack sneered. "Are you saying prestige is what gets one in even if one were as dull as a doorpost?"

"I hardly think your companion would last a week in Slytherin."

"I beg to differ."

"I have seen how he behaves over the weeks. He is too soft. He doesn't have the ruthless ambition and cunning to do what needs to be done to succeed in Slytherin."

"Then please tell me," Jack hissed, "if you think Harry is incompetent, how is it that you only _now_ realized he applied for Slytherin when he had written so on his application weeks ago when you were one of those deciding who would attend on the Board of Governors?"

Lucius opened his mouth to reply but the question finally sank in the midst of his actions and he hesitated just the slightest before he snapped, "It was a fault on my part."

"Or perhaps Harry had intended it to go that way and you just fell right into his trap. There's nothing you can do about his application now, can you?"

"Hardly, it was merely something I overlooked –"

"But Harry got what he wanted in the end, didn't he Mr. Malfoy?" Jack made sure to draw out the name slowly, to let the possibility of death slither down the man's spine and keep his power in line. "Ultimately, he won and if that's not cunning, I don't know what is."

~0~

So this was why Tom had felt it his responsibility to greet him. Harry couldn't help but grin ruefully as the Third Year stepped up to the podium on stage to speak as Head Boy. He must have looked like a fool; Harry hadn't reacted in the slightest when the older boy had told him his name was Tom Riddle. Who didn't know the name Tom Riddle at Hogwarts? He was the first to have ever achieved such a prestigious position so early. He was top of his class, the resident genius, and charismatic enough to be standing upon the podium. Harry was embarrassed and he couldn't help the natural reaction to slightly resent (and respect) Tom.

The speech was short but to the point. It was effective enough to enrapture everybody in the audience. Some, Harry could already tell, worshipped the boy. Really, it was difficult not to. Tom appeared flawless.

But Harry knew better than anybody that it was those who seemed flawless that hid the darkest flaws.

In a way, that just made Tom all the more intriguing. What could the Third Year be hiding? What sort of things could a genius be keeping in dark corners where nobody could see? A part of Harry wanted to find out but he knew better than to meddle. He was here for one purpose and one purpose only.

As the welcoming ceremony came to a conclusion, the Deputy Headmistress (Professor McGonagall, Harry recalled) stood to announce the First Year's sortings. This, Harry believed, was the highlight of this whole painful process. Where one was placed was essential - defining. The Houses were famous for their rivalries and the traits that characterized each one.

Hufflepuffs were known to be kind and caring, trusting to a fault. Many sneered at them, but nobody could deny that they worked harder than almost anybody else and Hufflepuff graduates often emerged as prominent and influential mediwitches and wizards. Should healing practices be your focus, Hufflepuff held the best connections and the best chances at success in such a field.

Ravenclaws were intelligent, questioning everything that came into their path. They were respected as great scholars and the greatest minds in the world but everybody knew that what Ravenclaws had in intelligence they lacked in social skill. Perhaps not all were stuttering messes in public events, but many preferred to stay to themselves and delve into their books rather than participating society. After graduating, many secluded themselves with their studies and were almost never heard from again unless a discovery was made.

Gryffindors were renowned for their bravery and their confidence. They placed friendship as highest priority and to them, betrayal was unthinkable. Gryffindors were not the brightest of the bunch, but they had impressive speaking skill and often dominated the Quidditch matches that occupied student minds every few months. They usually ended up playing a sport of some kind or in an interactive position in the Ministry.

But out of all the Houses, Slytherin was by far the House of the nobility. Almost all of the children of Slytherin consisted of the members of the Wizengamot or of those prominent in the Ministry. Nothing less than pureblood lineage ever gained acceptance. For those who hungered for power and influence, this was the House to enter. And it was just the cruel nature of society to render a position within it hereditary. The only famous exception, of course, being Tom Riddle. He was the only wizard in history to have gained acceptance and even power within Slytherin as a halfblood.

Those of Slytherin were not afraid to use any means to achieve their goals and while not all shared the same speaking skill as those of Gryffindors', Slytherins knew how to manipulate their words and actions to benefit themselves. Everything a Slytherin did was for a purpose.

But, as prestigious as the House was, many of the Ministry's members were not educated at Hogwarts. Hogwarts was a university and only those truly interested in further knowledge and education continued on outside of basic schooling. Most politicians continued with their careers without Hogwarts' aid.

As the professor gradually made her way down the list, Harry kept note of who was assigned where. He had researched the famous family names and knew it was important to see where which went in order to forge strong relationships in the future. If he wanted to succeed here, he had to find the very best of the best.

Harry was slightly surprised to hear the name Malfoy called halfway down the list. He had known that his "sponsor" of sorts had a single son, but he had never realized that the boy was headed anywhere outside of carrying on his father's legacy. Lucius had not struck Harry as the kind of man who would allow his son to dally at a university for seven years no matter the House while he could be forging his influence and connections in the Ministry. So when Draco was called up and immediately placed in Slytherin, Harry was mildly interested and curious. Perhaps he had found his first potential ally.

The next piece of interest was the Weasley boy who was placed in Gryffindor. The Weasleys, although Purebloods, were known to continue with the strangest occupations. None save for one of the middle children took an interest in the Ministry while the rest took on dragon taming, cursebreaking, or running one a joke shop in Diagon Alley. It was foolish to say that none of them were successful; all of them actually fared well in everything they did. But it was the seemingly plebian nature of their jobs that degraded them in the eyes of the pureblood community and therefore not worthy of their notice. Why the next Weasley child had suddenly decided to attend Hogwarts was a mystery Harry might find interesting to unravel.

The last who caught his attention was none other than a Mudblood. Hermione, if he recalled correctly, was her name and she was automatically sorted into Ravenclaw. It was a clear shock to all the students present that a girl with no magical history behind her at all was admitted to the university at all. She must have enormous talent to have made it this far. Yet another student Harry considered worth investigating.

Harry patiently waited the entire list through until his name, with no surname, was called last.

"Harry!"

As all the students had done before him, Harry rose from his seat and stood, waiting to hear where he was to be placed. He noticed the confused stares that lingered on his form in the brief silence. Who was this blind student? Why did he have no last name? Harry could almost see the questions written on all of their faces. It must be killing all of them to not know where he had come from or where he stood in the wizarding hierarchy.

"Slytherin!"

Harry indulged in a smug smile before settling back into his seat. So his disillusionment spell had worked on his application. Lucius had not caught where he had intended to go. And with no meddling politician to fiddle with his choice and the credentials to back him up, Harry was pleased to hear that he had gotten what he wanted.

* * *

**Wow, I really should be updating The Horcrux. And I should be studying. But I guess here is dear old distracted me doing this again because it's been itching at my mind for a while. **

**Anyway, by the time students enter Hogwarts they already know spells from about Year 1 to Year 4 in canon. It's university so of course they know quite a bit already. University is really for specializing and refining one's skill where one wishes to improve. It's an extended and deeper understanding of their magic and its fields. **

**Nope, no Sorting Hat in the sorting. It's assigned by application. The Board of Governors decide who goes where. Like these dear colleges today. But the Sorting Hat does come in later, trust me. Like in the next chapter or two but it has a different purpose than sorting people into different Houses. **

**And since Hogwarts is a university, the students in Year 1 to Year 7 are not 11 to 17 years old. They start off at fifteen or sixteen (depending on how advanced you are) and graduate around twenty two or twenty three or even longer depending on what they decide to "major" in. First year is like freshman year at college. Still general classes and stuff, slowly narrowing down. By the time the students are in Year 3 or 4, that's when the specifics come into play and the students focus more and more on what they are most interested in. **

**Yup, I said Voldemort was twenty and Tom, being a Third Year, is about eighteen. There's a reason for that. **

**Anyways time for studying now that this is out of my system! **


End file.
